


Skinny Love

by MarigoldWatson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bon Iver, Comfort, F/M, Heartbreak, Light Angst, Soul-Crushing, skinny love definitely helped influence this fic, that moment you realize you aren't THAT girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4962859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldWatson/pseuds/MarigoldWatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic Request: Kira tells Malia about how Stiles and Lydia used to be, then Malia starts noticing subtle things about stydia interacting. #HeStillLikesHer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skinny Love

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: It is very hard to not consider Malia's feelings in this. While I don't like Stalia, the growth I've seen in Malia in season 5, has made it hard for me to just throw her to the wind. So I made her relatable. Because I think we've all been there when we realize we aren't THE girl of their dreams, when they're the boy of ours.

Malia was glad that Kira agreed to take art with her senior year. The coyote knew that Kira was only doing it because they were friends and not because Kira needed the academic break like she did. It was silly, but sometimes Malia felt like Kira was her only real friend. Sure, there was Lydia, and things certainly got better since last year.

Things were tense at first with the fiery redhead (that for some reason Stiles kept feeling the need to correct her to  _strawberry blonde_ ). Malia never understood why, however, since the two of them had barely met one time prior to her coming back to school. On the third day of school, while they'd all been sitting at their table eating lunch, Malia had thought she'd caught a hint of sadness and irritation on the wind. A mixture that sat heavy on her senses until it was almost unbearable. When she'd followed the scent she'd been surprised to notice it was coming from Lydia Martin herself, sitting next to Scott.

The look of annoyance creased Lydia's forehead with fine lines. Her eyes glittered with contempt; Lydia's eyes lingering on where Stiles fingers were absentmindedly playing with the frayed hem of Malia's shorts.

Confusion rippled through Malia as her brain fought to make sense of what she was now seeing, along with smelling. Her bluntness was ready to force out a question that she knew would embarrass the girl next to her, but before she could open her mouth, the smell stopped and Lydia's face eased into a friendly smile. It had all been so sudden Malia wondered if she'd made it all up.

That day had been put out of her mind for so long now that Malia couldn't understand why she was thinking of it now.

A light tap of an elbow jolted her from her thoughts. Malia turned her head to stare at her best friend whose face was aglow with giggles and teasing.

"You seem to be in deep thought today."

Malia shrugged. Her muscles began to cramp from holding the paintbrush in one spot for too long. She dropped the tip of the brush down on the canvas. Not caring or thinking about a plot to her painting. Malia just let chaos ensue and would wait to see if anything good would come out of it.

"I don't know why but I was just thinking about my first week of school."

"Oh-kay. What about it?"

Malia shot her friend a side glance suddenly becoming uncomfortable. It may have taken her a while to learn what a filter was, but Malia understood it now. Was it appropriate to talk about past things with other pack members  _about_ pack members? Was this something that really needed to be brought up? It was so long ago.

Without thinking, Malia let out a raspberry as she dropped the paintbrush into the cup of murky grey water that sat at her station.

"I just feel stupid even thinking about it. I don't know why I even thought about it."

"Malia," Kira started, her voice taking on a heavy weight of concern. "You know you can talk to me."

"I know, I know. It's just…when I first started school Stiles and I were just starting out as a couple."

"Yeah, I know that."

"Well, during the first week of school I noticed a scent in the air. It was Lydia. She seemed, I don't know, upset?"

It was Kira's turn to set down her brush. She swiveled in her stool until she was completely facing Malia.

"What do you mean upset? Is there something we should be worried about?"

Malia waved her hands wildly trying to de-stress Kira's sudden worry before settling them in her lap. A few seconds later a hand shot up to run her fingers through her hair; forgetting she'd just recently cut it.

"No, she's fine. When I say upset I mean more like she was upset to see Stiles's hand on my thigh. Which is crazy right? I was going to ask her about it when everything stopped. She seemed happy and her scent was peaceful and, just, ugh, I don't know okay! I felt like I went a little crazy that day."

Malia didn't notice the sad smile that curved the lips of her friend or the all too knowing glint in her eyes that frosted over in sadness.

"You weren't going crazy Malia. You probably saw what they've always been hiding."

Malia perked up as the words slammed into her like claws to her gut. Her heart fraying at the edges, feeling like she knew exactly what Kira was going to say. Malia wished she'd had it in her to tell her to stop; to keep quiet. To act like a child shaking her head and refusing to listen. So when the words stumbled from between her lips, there was no one else she could blame but herself for what she heard next.

"What do you mean, 'been hiding'?"

Kira took in a deep breath, becoming as uncomfortable as Malia.

"Well, before," she waved a hand up in down at her, "You happened, I think Stiles and Lydia had a thing."

"Stiles never mentioned anything like that."

Malia's words felt like lead; hollowed out by hurt.

"I don't think either of them would admit it, because it's something that never really got to happen between them."

"If it never happened then why make it sound like it's such a big deal?"

Kira's smile turned soft, crumbled around the edges, as her eyes flashed with an emotion Malia was beginning to hate. Pity.

"You don't understand. Stiles trusted her; believed in her. They weren't ever far apart from one another. If something happened the first person Lydia called was Stiles. Not Allison, her best friend, or Scott, her alpha. But Stiles. It was _always_  Stiles. Scott told me once, Stiles changed her ringtone to 'Wannabe.' Whenever he heard it, whether awake or dead asleep at 3 in the morning, he answered."

Malia's face fell in waterfall lines of confusion. There was more going on here than a simple title to a song she'd never heard of, but the significance played a part in what was going on around her.

"Wannabe? What's a wannabe?"

"You know?" Kira spoke up voice tinged with hope. "The Spice Girl Song?"

Malia wasn't giving her much to go off of and she continued to look lost on the subject. Her vague expression turning Kira's eyebrows up high.

"Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really, want. So tell me what you want, what you really, really, want. I want-ah-I want-ah-"

Kira couldn't believe she had actually burst out into song. Literally. The claustrophobia of being the center of attention swallowed her whole as all eyes in the art room turned to her direction. Giggles filled the space; Kira's eyes darting down to her fidgeting feet.

"Anyways, this all sounds incredibly one sided," Malia chided, irritation piercing through each word.

A deep set frown registered on the other girls' face. Malia instantly not wanting to hear anymore or stand corrected, but obviously her best friend didn't get the recently sent memo.

"Maybe, if you didn't know what you were looking for. What was right in front of you. I can see how someone might think that. I don't know Lydia that well, but from what I've seen, she's guarded. But when she's around Stiles, I don't know how to explain it. All those walls she has up just come down. Lydia laughs more and allows herself to act like the teenager she is. Not the Queen B whose going to be prom queen, or the banshee who finds bodies, or the genius we know she is. She's just, simply, Lydia. They bring out the best in each other. They accept each other for who they are and not for who they want the other to be."

"Stiles accepts me and he's never tried to make me feel like I needed to change."

"I know. That's the beauty of Stiles. From what Scott tells me, Lydia never used to be so good at that. Accepting others for who they were. It was something she learned from Stiles."

The world became a heated dizzy mess. Malia tried to find a solid rooting on anything in the room as the words clouded her mind. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. The churning feeling in her guts returning until she swore she was going to be sick. Kira apparently didn't catch on to her sudden distress. She just continued babbling away continuing to paint happily on her original creation.

"Lydia kissed Stiles once. Claimed it was for, 'medical purposes.' I look it up though. Not once did I ever read how kissing someone helps with a panic attack-"

Malia felt like she'd just been thrown off a merry-go-round. Her feet connecting sharply with the scuffed beige tile of the classroom. She couldn't find a proper grasp on her equilibrium. The swollen pressure in her chest making a thick hollow where she swore her heart had collapsed.

"I need to use the restroom!"

Did she shout? She wasn't sure. Malia couldn't care. She couldn't focus past the swimming monsters of heartache in her chest.

"Mr. Engelbrick, can I please go?"

Bewildered by her outburst, Malia didn't give him time to recover. She simply grabbed her things and burst like a hurricane from the room.

* * *

It'd taken the rest of fifth period for Malia to steady her nerves. The bell signaling it was time for lunch prompting her to exit from the bathroom stall she'd found solace in. All the sounds of muffled footsteps and endless happy chatter catering to that overwhelming feeling that things weren't okay. Her world was torn open like an old wound at her own stupidity of having to ask questions. Not knowing when to leave things alone and a best friend who couldn't have realized the wildfire she had created inside her.

Malia stared at her reflection in the mirror; puffy eyes tinged red showcasing the misery she'd released in silence on the cold tile floor.

"You can do this."

She tried to be confident. Willed a smile to cut across her lips, but it was useless. Malia's hands gripped tight to the bleached porcelain of the sink. It groaned underneath her strain but she didn't pay any mind to its pleas. Malia knew Stiles loved her, she always figured that statement needed no contest. It went beyond just sense of smell; displayed by the tentative caresses he placed on her skin or how his fingers twirled in her hair when they slept at night.

Ever since Kira's admission, however, Malia felt doubt creep in and begin a full on assault in her chest.

The hallway was mostly cleared out when she'd decided it was time to take her leave. Her legs robotically moving in front of her as she pushed towards the table the pack occupied outside. Malia figured the fresh air would help clear her senses as she pushed through the double doors. Instead, all it did was attack her with different emotions and smells until she was completely numb.

Kids laughing and hormones raging. The smell of despair from a lone student somewhere in the yard echoing out with her own.

The trek to the table had never felt so torturous. The feeling strong and unyielding. It only got worse when the table came into view and she saw him; saw them. Stiles already sat down beside the copper headed girl she'd never known she was silently competing against. She watched them and Malia felt like she couldn't bear to take those last few steps.

Had they always looked at each other like that? Looking at one another like they were tethered. Star-crossed lovers gazing between oceans of time. Stiles looked at Lydia like she was a set of constellations. Face set in wonder as he tried to memorize every name of the stars that filled it.

When Malia called to him he acted like he was being torn from his own being. The tearing of his eyes from Lydia reverberating in Malia's chest like thunder. Time stilled and the earth felt like it had shifted beneath her feet. And it did. The air having taken on a distinctly heavier feel as it coursed through her lungs, leaving bits of nausea in its escape on her tongue.

Stiles eyes met hers and Malia betrayed herself by letting a hopeful smile crack around the edges of her frown. She hated herself for it as she watched the fire in Stiles eyes fade to a dull spark as he took in her figure. His hand absentmindedly taking Malia's to bring her to sit next to him.

Did Stiles ever look at her like that? Like everything around them was rocky and uncertain, but he was able to find refuge in her shore? A drowning man begging for air with every fiber of his body screaming, but hating the feeling of leaving when she pulled him up?

"Hey." Stiles thumb rubbed on her knuckles trying to gain her attention. Little did Stiles realize her attention had been on him all along, noticing the things he probably couldn't. His sound of worry and care making Malia growl at the renewal of tears spiking behind her eyes. "Lia, everything okay?"

Malia knew she had to look at him, but the thought made her chest constrict at the unknown of what she would find there. If there was one thing she wasn't it was a coward. Malia braced herself, her shoulders rigid, waiting for the blow, as she looked into the eyes of her first love realizing she was never his.

What she saw there made her relax; a shaky laugh turning her body into a crumbling mess. Stiles eyes were flooded with interest; those eyes that were a gateway to the care he took in loving her.

"Yeah, babe. Everything's fine. Everything's just fine."

Not even she believed her words as they fell vacant from her lips.

* * *

The pack found themselves later that night fighting off a pack of chimeras. It was usually always just one, never more than that, so finding a group of three was giving them more trouble than they originally thought possible. The small pack quickly formulated an attack that left them segregated in groups; small little islands where Scott and Liam faced off against one. While Kira and Malia were fighting off a second. That left Lydia and Stiles defending themselves on their own against the third. Venom dripped from a wide mouth littered with glistening fangs that snapped when they came close to their flesh.

Malia's heart hammered as she watched Stiles fling his bat. A weak attempt at keeping the chimera back and away from the girl behind him. Malia easily picked up on the anxiety and panic that was all Stiles. It was incredibly poignant: Malia swore she could taste its weight on her tongue. Every time she tried to take a step to help them her opponent would swipe at her, claws dripping with paralyzing venom. Malia was barely able to dodge the vicious attack before he would land a kick to her stomach that would leave her winded and dazed.

Out of the corner of her eye Malia watched as Stiles swung his bat in a wide arch. The chimera easily sidestepped the bat and effortlessly caught it. Stiles being stubborn as hell, refused to let go. The creature, no  _the kid_ , their fellow classmate, spared no time in swiping its clawed fingers across his abdomen. A cry of agony resonated off the school's rusted brick walls.

Malia felt her heart drop for the second time that day. His name rose up in her throat only to be swallowed back down in surprise as another female voice said it first.

"Stiles!"

Lydia's voice echoed inside the hollow chamber in her chest that Malia was sure once held her heart. Every grief stricken syllable moving down until her legs turned to dust.

She watched as the banshee seemed to transform into a Phoenix. A fiery red head that lurched forward. Her small framed body jumping in the air to land a kick to the chimera's chest stumbling him back from Stiles. A claw hand lashed out blindly meeting open air as Lydia had already ducked down and was kicking the chimera's legs out from under him.

"Lydia," Stiles gasping breath rang out, "Run!"

Lydia didn't hear him as she landed a combo of blows that left Malia speechless. Where had Lydia even learned to do this?

All amazement ended when Lydia missed a step leaving her open for the chimera to catch her arm. It pulled it back hard at the joint, exposing her chest, and leaving her vulnerable. It was about to strike down when Stiles slammed into its midsection knocking its hold on the girl loose and taking the chimera to the ground.

Stiles was in a tremendous amount of pain, Malia could tell. The blood wasn't needed to tell her that, but it did tell her how extensive his wounds were. Yet, here he was. Sacrificing his life to save Lydia. It shouldn't have meant anything; they would all do that for each other. But as Malia watched Lydia secure her arms around Stiles to help him up, Malia took notice of the way his arms easily drew her small frame into his body. As if Lydia had been molded specifically from him; struggling to keep one another safe. Malia knew this wasn't about saving  _just_  a friend.

When danger called they moved to each other like a life line. Had Lydia always reached out for him like this? Had Stiles responded so eager to protect her even though Stiles himself was just as fragile?

Malia watched as they moved in one singular motion. Stiles hand reaching out to grab the bat he'd lost. They moved back, each step just as singular as the last, until they found safety behind his jeep. That was the moment Malia knew. She needed to talk to him; needed to let go, because how long could she allow herself to play second string before her heart grew bitter?

* * *

It didn't feel like it usually did: being inside of Stiles's room. His room had always felt like a safe place for her, her home away from home when she didn't quite understand her father and he didn't understand her. The one place she knew she could run to and he would be there with open arms to keep her safe from judgment and would just...love her. As she ran her fingers over his computer desk Malia realized only  _she_ ever said love. Well, she told him she  _really, really_ liked him once, but she figured he knew what she meant. Stiles though, had never once spoken those words. She knew he cared about her but did he love her? Or was it already too late for her to find a place in his heart?

Stiles was seated at the edge of his bed, concerned eyes watching every erratic move she made. He knew better than to rush her; always letting her go at her own pace. He moved to adjust himself and winced. Malia involuntarily did the same in sync with his own. The smell of disinfectant and sterile solution stunk up the room more than her own grief. Malia knew he was still in pain while he waited for the painkillers to take effect.

"Lia, what's going on?"

She didn't answer him right away. Malia just continued to stand in front of him, arms crossed securely around her middle, willingly herself to grab the courage to say what needed to be said. Could it ever be easy to say goodbye?

Finally, she took the final steps to sit on his bed with him keeping her distance. Her palms grew clammy and, uncrossing her arms, Malia began to rub them on the thighs of her jeans. She rubbed so hard the stinging of the fabric burning them was quickly turning to fire.

Stiles grabbed her wrists forcing her to look at him.

"Lia, what is going on?"

This time she couldn't stop it. The tears came and drenched her cheeks before she even spoke.

"I know about Lydia."

"What about Lydia?" Stiles asked, lines creasing his brow in confusion.

"I know about how you felt about her; how you still feel about her. I know how she feels about you. I tried to explain it away; that you love me more. I mean, you have to right? I'm your girlfriend. I have you, except I don't  _really_ have you."

"I don't understand, Malia. You do have me."

Malia felt like a child shaking her head trying to get the bad words to keep from reaching her ears.

"No, I don't, Stiles. Not all of you. Lydia will always have all of you, and I don't want just a part of you. You don't think I see? I saw how you both looked at each other today. You never once looked at me like I was your whole world. I was only a piece of it. Or how you defended each other and risked your life just so the other could be okay. I get that you do that for all of us, but it's  _not the same."_

 _"_ But it is the same. I wouldn't be with you, Malia, if I didn't feel like we were good together. We're great together and helping you-"

"That's just it, Stiles—" Malia interjected. "You  _help_ me. Sometimes I feel like you baby me like a child. I don't need that. Maybe, maybe this happened for a reason. Maybe I can find out who I really am on my own, and you—you and Lydia can finally see if you're more than just a look. I think. Ugh, I don't know!"

Stiles fought to force words out of his mouth, realizing she was talking about breaking up. For what sounded like for good? He wasn't sure and neither was she.

"What do you want to do?"

Such a simple question. The weight behind those six words, seventeen letters, and seven vowels, though, was tremendous. Malia knew, with finality, that this was where it ended. Her throat constricted over every word that needed to be said. They sat in her throat, gnawing away like a savage beast, until her throat was raw. Malia looked into the molten honey eyes of her first love and realized this would be the last time she'd be here, now, as his girlfriend.

Her silence had been too long. Stiles had already begun to fidget. Legs bouncing tirelessly; tongue flickering over a swollen bottom lip, reddened where his teeth had grabbed.

"Lia, I don't-I don't want to lose you."

His voice fumbled over the words as he looked up at her, pleading. Malia's heart would have swelled with elation if the words he'd been too afraid to say didn't cling to the air like remnants of smoke.  _As a friend._

The transparency of it shown in the unmarked territory of grief in his eyes. Malia didn't know how to answer. Luckily, she didn't have too. A sudden sound of flesh meeting wood startled both of their attentions towards the sound.

"Dinner will be on in five, kids."

They both gave the sheriff a curt smile; waiting patiently for his exit. The sheriff in turn gave them a suspicious once over. The tension in the room not lost on him. But it wasn't his place to pry, so instead of charging in with parental advice, he drummed his fingers on the door jam. He gave a nod to signal his departure and just as rapidly as he came, the sheriff left to descend back down the stairs.

Dinner. One last dinner would be nice.

Looking at Stiles now, pale and somehow on odd shade of green, Malia sent him a playful nudge with her knee. Eyes the size of saucers melded on her face.

"Dinner."

"What?"

"Dinner. I'd like to stay for one last dinner. If that's okay?"

Stiles lips quirked up followed quickly by a rush of laughter that danced like a wind chime on the air. Malia would miss this.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course."

The sheriff called up letting them know to come eat. In sync, they both removed themselves from his bed and headed for the door. Malia leading as usual. Just before they reached the door Malia turned to Stiles. She laughed a little as he jumped, startled by her sudden change in trajectory.

"One last thing, after tonight: tell her. Tell her soon so all this was worth it. Just do me that favor, please."

Stiles nodded his head in acknowledgement. "I will, Lia."

"And don't be cute or anything around me for a while either."

"I wouldn't do that to you."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure."

"Kids! Come on! The dinners getting cold." It was amazing how the sheriff's voice was able to crack like lightning.

"Coming!" Stiles voice dropped down, low enough where only they could hear. "I care about you, Lia. Us-" he paused for a moment, tongue licking wildly across his lips. "Us not being together won't change that."

If there was one thing Malia believed, it was those words he'd just spoken to her. "I know."

With her words and, especially feelings, finally out on the metaphorical table, she led them downstairs to meet his father down for one last dinner.

As just friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, as always, I really hope you lovelies enjoyed this!! MUCH LOVE xx oo


End file.
